


Monday at the Ministry

by remedialpotions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remedialpotions/pseuds/remedialpotions
Summary: Ron’s not expecting much out of his nineteenth birthday.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	Monday at the Ministry

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 40th birthday, Ron! To celebrate, I wrote about him turning... 19. Hope you enjoy!

The weather charms at the Ministry had been malfunctioning for weeks. Ron had lost count of the number of times he had walked through the Auror Department, on his way to a training seminar or a morning briefing, only to find himself suddenly knee-deep in snow or in the vortex winds of a tornado. Once, he’d been caught in a hailstorm so powerful that the ice had left bruises over his shoulders. But the issue ranked significantly lower on Minister Shacklebolt’s list of priorities than rounding up the remainder of Voldemort’s supporters and eliminating lingering corruption within the Ministry itself, so Ron, along with Harry and the rest of the junior Aurors, had simply accepted the unpredictability of the climate as their new normal.

It made the training seminars a lot more interesting, anyway.

The morning of the first of March was fairly mild, relatively speaking. As Ron rode the elevator with Harry to the second level of the Ministry, the sun shone brightly in on them, though it was oddly punctuated by distant bolts of lightning and howling winds.

“Why does this meeting have to be so early?” asked Ron as the doors to the lift jangled open and they stepped into the corridor. 

Harry shrugged. “It’s not like anyone listens anyway, maybe they just reckoned they’d get it out of the way.”

Ron bit back a yawn as they wound their way through the maze of cubicles. He’d been up late writing a letter to Hermione, like most nights, and just as he’d been about to attempt to sleep, Harry had burst into his room to inform him that a department-wide meeting had been scheduled for the following morning at eight. While Ron hadn’t expected much from his birthday, with Hermione away at Hogwarts, but listening to Robards drone on about proper wand protocol still wasn’t what he’d have preferred to do.

“I’m gonna grab a cup of tea,” said Harry as they reached the compact row of cubicles that comprised their workspace. “You want anything?”

“Yeah, tea sounds good actually. Thanks.”

As Harry strode in the direction of the kitchen, Ron stepped around the wall of his cubicle - and nearly swallowed his tongue.

Hermione sat curled up in his desk chair, one finger held to her lips to silence him, mischief glinting in her eyes. As Ron stood, shellshocked and gawking at her, she rose to her feet and soundlessly approached him.

It didn’t quite feel real, even when her hands came to rest on his robes-covered waist, even as she stood on tiptoe to bring her face level with his.

“Happy birthday,” she breathed, a massive grin on her face.

He opened his mouth, only to find that no coherent words would come. “Wh - I - wh - _how_?”

“McGonagall’s Floo.” 

“You snuck out?!”

“No.” She looked so dismayed by this that Ron would have laughed were he not still overwhelmed by her presence. “I asked, and she let me go. But I do need to be back in time for the afternoon classes, so-“

He kissed her, and something akin to relief rushed through him at their touch. Weeks without her, with only the familiar curve of her handwriting on weathered parchment to hold him over, had left him with a sort of permanent ache - but she was here. One hand diving into her bushy hair, the other at her back, he pulled her closer, disregarding the voice in his head reminding him that the Ministry likely frowned upon snogging in the workplace. 

Somewhere in the building, thunder rumbled.

“Dammit,” he mumbled, unwilling to move his lips too far away from hers. “I’m so sorry, I’ve got this stupid meeting to go to in a minute-“

“No, you haven’t.” 

She was back to grinning at him again. 

“What?”

“I told Harry to make that up - I just needed a reason for you to be here early-“

“You are amazing,” said Ron emphatically. He dipped his head, intent on kissing her again when hinges creaked from across the department, and he turned to see none other than his direct supervisor emerging from his office.

”Shit.” He grabbed Hermione’s hand, yanking her down to crouch behind the wall of his cubicle. “Robards is over there.”

“So?”

“So?” he hissed, staring incredulously at her. “So I’m not supposed to be snogging my girlfriend in the middle of the office-“

“Oh, _that_.” From her back pocket, she withdrew her enchanted beaded bag and began to rummage around inside of it. She had one arm in up to her shoulder when her face lit up, and she dragged out the silvery expanse of Harry’s invisibility cloak. 

“How do you-”

“Don’t ask questions,” she whispered back. “Or would you rather get told off?”

She flung the Cloak over their heads, and as it billowed around them, Ron tipped toward her and found her lips with his again. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop. Since September, he had wired his brain to anticipate weeks without her, and the fact that she was right in front of him, on a day he had expected to spend missing her - well, he had to take advantage of the moment while it lasted.

“Wait ‘til he’s gone,” Ron muttered, his ears trained on the footsteps in the aisle between the cubicles, “and we’ll go somewhere more private.”

They held their breath as Robards’ robes-covered legs moved past the gap in the cubicle wall, and soon the department fell silent again, punctuated only by the occasional scratch of a quill.

“We could stay here, y’know,” said Ron with a grin, shifting his weight so that he knelt in front of her. “Cloak’s pretty private on its own-“

Hermione shot him a withering look. “It isn’t soundproof.” At his concessionary nod, she added, “I actually thought we could go have breakfast together, or-“ Pink rose in her cheeks. “Or just go back to yours-“

“Yes,” he nodded fervently. “Yes, let’s do that. Let’s get out of here.” He peered around the wall of the cubicle. “I think he’s gone.”

Rising carefully to their feet, they started down the narrow aisle. The cloak only just covered them all the way down to their feet, so Ron stepped up close behind Hermione so that her back pressed against his chest. Unable to resist, he looped an arm around her torso.

“I always wanted to do this,” he muttered in her ear as they shuffled along.

She craned her neck to look at him. “Really? This, specifically?”

“Anytime we’d have to cram under the cloak with Harry, I always wanted to-“ At the sound of hinges again, he paused, glancing around, but it was just Dawlish stepping into his office. “To touch you. I never could until now.”

“You can be sweet later,” she told him, though she was plainly trying to fight a smile. “Let’s just go.”

But they'd barely taken another step when they saw Harry rounding the corner, a paper cup of tea in each hand. Which would not have been cause for alarm - Harry had assisted in orchestrating the whole thing, and for that, Ron would forever be grateful - but then Harry said, "oh, good morning, sir" and Ron looked behind him to see Robards approaching from the opposite direction.

"Good morning, Potter," said Robards as he strode up to Harry. It was only by the power of Ron's quick reflexes that he pressed himself and Hermione up against the wall before Robards collided with them. "I'm just on my way to see you and Weasley, is he in yet?"

Ron's heart jumped into his throat. Hermione's whole body went completely rigid.

"Erm-" Harry let out an anxious cough. "Er - what's it about?"

"Just wanted to discuss the results of your latest mission," said Robards easily. "You both did quite well, but you'll need to testify before the Wizengamot."

"Oh. Right." Harry's eyes darted around the department. "Well, he, erm - he won’t be in today. He's - he's ill."

"Is that so?" Robards' brow wrinkled curiously. "Then why have you got two cups of tea?"

Harry looked down like he'd forgotten he was even holding them, then forced out a chuckle. "Oh, I just - er - I'm particularly thirsty this morning."

As if to prove his point, he lifted one of the cups and drank deeply from it, still meeting Robards' skeptical gaze.

"Mhmm." Robards regarded Harry for several long, tense moments, during which Ron's heart beat so furiously that he thought it might escape his body entirely. "Well, when Weasley’s... _recovered_... we'll need to discuss your testimony."

"Yes, sir, absolutely."

Robards walked off in the direction of his office, Harry ducked into his cubicle, and Ron sagged with relief against the wall. In his arms, Hermione spun to face him.

"I shouldn't be here," she whispered. "I'll go, and then you'll come along a few minutes later and say you're feeling better and decided to come in."

"No, no, don't." He kept his hands on her hips, memorizing the warmth of her body, the soft feel of her. They had so little time together lately, and he wasn't keen on squandering what they did have. "It’s not a big deal, they probably just think I’m hungover. It’s fine."

"I don't want you to get in trouble."

"It's fine, really-" He broke off; a faint trickling noise was growing steadily louder. "You came all this way, please don't go yet."

"As long as you're sure-" She tilted her head. "Can you hear that?"

"Yeah, it's probably just the weather charms again, they've been off lately. Come on."

He gave her a gentle nudge, and they resumed inching down the aisle. But as much as it was fulfilling one of the many fantasies he'd had about her during his teenage years, he didn't need those fantasies anymore. He had all of her now, and he only had a few hours in which to make the most of it.

“Know what,” he said quietly, giving the department a quick scan, “we probably don’t need the cloak anymore, I reckon we can make it to the elevators. And the sooner we’re at the elevators, the sooner we’re at Grimmauld Place-“

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Whisking off the cloak, Hermione grasped his hand in hers, and they set off again. As they rounded the corner, the door to the department came into view - as did a wall of water, knee-deep and flooding tsunami-like toward them.

“Shit,” Ron spat as the water rose and flooded toward them, soaking into the carpet and filing cabinets and stacks of supplies. “Dammit, not this - not _now_ -“

“Isn’t there a-“ Hermione took a few steps back as the water lapped at her shoes. “A spell, or anything?”

“No, I told you, they’re not working-“ 

Quickly, he weighed his options. He couldn’t go running all over the department lest Robards catch a glimpse of him, and he didn’t want to go wading with Hermione into a wall of water. There was nothing else for it: he wrenched open the door to a supply closet a few steps away and closed them both inside.

It was dark and cluttered and tiny, and Ron found himself shoved uncomfortably against a shelf bearing quills and notebooks. Pulling his wand from his waistband, he lit the tip and propped it on top of a cardboard box so that it glowed upon them.

“It’ll pass in a few minutes,” explained Ron. “It’s usually snow that does that, but I guess that it’s warmer out now-“

“So now you’ve got rivers,” Hermione concluded, cracking a smile. “I suppose there are worse places to wait it out.”

“I’m sorry that we’ve got to wait anything out at all.” 

He reached out towards her, and she linked her fingers with his. The wand light had cast her partially in shadow, so he stepped closer, wanting to see as much of her as he could, while he could.

“It isn’t your fault, you’re not in charge of these charms.”

“I know, but...” He tugged her toward him, and she dropped his hands to wind her arms around his waist. “I’m just sorry that it has to be like this at all. And that I couldn’t go back to Hogwarts with you, you know I would have done if I thought there was any way that I could.”

Her hands slid up his back, small fingertips pressing into him. “I don’t blame you for that. Do you blame me for being at Hogwarts?”

“No, but that’s different, you’re meant to be there-“

“Just like you’re meant to be here. Besides, this isn’t for forever, right? It’s already March, and soon it’ll be June, and then I’ll be back.”

“I know.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her face and kissed her. “I know, but I still wish it could be different.”

“So do I.” She kissed him again, a bit more deeply, like she was struggling to hold herself back. “It’s really not so bad in here.”

He looked down at her, befuddled. “We’re standing in a puddle of ink right now.”

“I’m not really worried about that.”

She rose up on her toes and locked her lips onto his, and he forgot everything else. He forgot the corner of the shelf poking into his back, and the flood of water just outside the door, and the moment three hours from now when she’d have to leave. She was here. All he could think was that she was here, she had ducked out on classes, she had gone to McGonagall to use the Floo. All for him.

He couldn’t possibly imagine a better way to spend the day.

Hermione broke away, breathless, and looked up at the ceiling. “Did you... feel something?”

“No, feel wh-“ A drop of water splattered on his cheek. Then another, on the top of his head. Unfettered, he wiped them away. “Oh, it might be a leak - that’s been happening lately too-“

But as he reached for his wand, hoping for more light, the ceiling opened up. The rain poured down upon them, icy-cold and sharp, instantly soaking them down to the skin. Thunder rumbled, accompanied by flashes of light, and a gust of wind nearly knocked Hermione into a shelf.

“God, this bloody building,” Ron grumbled, clearing water from his eyes. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry-“

Her head tipped back, her shoulders shaking: she was laughing. Absolutely cracking up, as a matter of fact, though she couldn’t be heard over the sound of raindrops pummeling the walls. Still, it was infectious, and Ron couldn’t stop himself joining her. It just felt so good to be happy with her.

Still giggling, Hermione leaned her head on his sodden chest. “Can’t we just have one thing go right?”

“Wouldn’t be us if we did,” Ron told her cheerfully. “The flood outside might be gone by now, though. I can check.”

“If you want.”

She lifted her face to meet his eyes, drops of water clinging to her eyelashes and her lips. When she kissed him, her mouth was cool and soft, and he couldn’t tear himself away.

It was just a little rain, after all.


End file.
